


Individuality

by Rinari7



Category: Star Trek: Voyager
Genre: Episode 4 x 03 Day of Honor, Episode 5 x 07 Infinite Regress, Episode Tag, Gen, Mind Meld
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-05
Updated: 2016-08-05
Packaged: 2018-07-29 13:02:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7685635
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinari7/pseuds/Rinari7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Borg were aware of the Vulcan mind meld, but had little use for it. Seven of Nine is another story.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Individuality

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I can't get enough of getting inside Seven's head.

**Before**

 

She passed him in the hall on the way to Engineering, one of the Vulcans on board. _Species 3259, enlarged neo-cortex produces superior analytical abilities and renders the species capable of telepathy_ , she registered, and then, for a split second, stopped in her tracks. Telepathic, capable of mind melds. Mind meld, a voice in her head besides her own lonely, pitiful cry that echoed in an empty chamber.

 

And she almost ran after him, heedless of the security detail, almost begged him to please, please, speak to her, please enter her mind, please relieve her of this dreadful state of being so terribly _alone_.

But something registered at the last second, that this would be unwise. That she would continue to be alone afterwards, that she would likely always be alone, on this ship, 9.50345 thousand light-years from Borg space, with little hope of returning to her own kind. That she ought to acclimate herself. That she would only be devastated again once the meld was over--for the nature of such things was temporary. That Vulcan socialization would likely prevent an autonomous member of the species from initiating such a meld for anything less than a dire reason (which they would not judge this to be, she knew). That likely no one on this ship would ever desire to join in any way with her.

 

She was Borg.

 

Her mental calculations were finished within a second, and the futility of the thing had been neatly demonstrated, and so she squared her shoulders and continued.  
But there was another Vulcan, in Engineering, and she was grateful there was the experimental trans-warp drive to distract her.

  
_My mind to your mind, my thoughts to your thoughts…_ She held every muscle in her body tensed and tried to mute the cries of her own soul, pebbles tossed into an endless abyss.

 

* * *

 

 

**After**

 

Her own cries were mere pebbles, skipping off the wave of _beings_ that assaulted her, sinking under the weight of the onslaught. She was being driven towards an abyss, her struggles futile, she knew, and it had crossed her mind, more than once, to simply let herself be carried by the crowd. Seven could not recall ever having been so frightened and alone, among all these poor parasites, all these minds, there with her and not caring about her at all.

 

At first, his voice was but another among the crowd. He was shouting like the others, practically screaming. She’d never heard Tuvok scream before. But it was _her_ name. He was looking for _her_ , he wanted _her_ , and so she tried to fight her way towards him, on some instinct more than any conscious thought.

Tuvok had been there, too, when she had tried to fight her way towards the Borg, the Vulcan a rock in the midst of the horrors and pitfalls of her own mind, even when he barely knew her.

It was futile, still, to fight, but now she wasn’t alone here, wasn’t alone among all of these creatures, and for once, that vain, pointless thing called hope that humans treasured so highly made sense to her.

 

But she could do nothing more than brace herself against the wall, cling to it, the others ramming into her forcing cries from her throat.  
And he could do nothing, she knew, but she was grateful he had tried. She could only hope he would not be annihilated along with herself.

 

Suddenly, the others were gone, and it didn’t register in her still-cowering consciousness until he took her arm, pulled her away from the edge. Ever-steady hands rested on her shoulders. She would have wilted into the safety of his presence, were she not still trembling, still traumatized.

  
Suddenly, he too was gone, as much as was possible while the effects of the meld still lingered. He was retreating as much as he could, and she made sure he was aware of her gratitude before she closed her eyes, so blessedly alone again.


End file.
